


The Master of Fate

by VulcanEmpress (orphan_account)



Series: Chronicles of Fate [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: A take on the whole Pitch is not Kozmotis thing, AU, Action/Adventure, F/F, F/M, Fate, Finding one's true self, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Personal Growth, Rebirth, Revenge, Seasonal Spirits and Guardians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/VulcanEmpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch Black is left weak and broken after the fight with the Guardians. He is angry and bitter at having Jack reject his offer and being bested by them once again. He plans to take back his power with the help of another spirit and fight to destroy them, but little does Pitch know he isn't the only one who is bitter and angry. There is a spirit who Pitch left to rot long long ago when she pleaded for his aid offering her power in return. This scorn will come back to haunt Pitch and the rest of the world as Fate is no longer happy being a servant of will. Fate will not listen to the rules any longer. She is done hurting and now, the world is in for a reckoning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Grasping at Straws

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction and my first work of original merit in a very long time. I do not want anyone to hesitate in giving me comments, ideas, criticisms or anything else. This was just the creation of one OC that spawned into a whole encompassing idea.   
> I ask that you give it a chance and hope you enjoy it as much I have. While ROTG is not very popular right now (nor was it ever really) I have a deep love of it that has set of a love for creation again.   
> I should probably ad that while in Joyce's canon Jack is fourteen I'm going with movie canon and having him be seventeen because just. He looks seventeen having him fourteen would be weird. Also this story WILL be taking a lot from the books as well as the movie. Warnings that I am a college student with a job so as such updates may be sporadic and that this story while somewhat planned is not fully formed so be patient with me my darlings if you please. With all that said I hope you enjoy!

The darkness swelled and seemed almost endless down below the Earth.

It was a heavy stifling velvet that smothered everything in its wake. 

It was a salvation and haven for most of Pitch’s life, but now it seemed that even darkness had turned against him. The lack of light did not bring him solace as it once had but instead brought the one thing he was supposed to be master of, his own fear. Every step, every sound of hoof beats, harsh breaths and glowing eyes all brought a new surge of fear. In his once magnificent and deadly kingdom Pitch hid from his very creations.  
It had been months since his defeat but the Nightmares did not relent. If anything being freed allowed them to feed themselves and gain minds of their own. Pitch was not safe from them. He was never safe anymore. Only one Nightmare returned to him, faithful and almost loving to its master. This it seemed was Pitch’s only source of strength. As such Pitch was in no condition to be called the Nightmare King. In all truth he wasn’t even in the state of power he grasped at when fighting the Guardians. He detested all that he had become, how far he had fallen. He was no better than the weakest spirits scraping the bottom of Universe while like this.  
For all his anger however, Pitch did not yell or rage or torment. He stayed quiet and he stayed put sapping the strength from his one loyal Nightmare and plotted. There must be something, anything that he could do to regain even some of his power. One leg up would become two, would become more and then oh then he could exact his revenge on those pesky Guardians. His face contorted at the thought of them, the sharp gray planes of his face akin to knives in the darkness, his eyes glowing with golden-silver fire. He bared his teeth as his thoughts settled on the one who doomed him, Jack Frost. The insolent and terrible boy. He had offered him the world at his feet, children believing him always and the repayment he got was this. 

Pitch’s clawed hands gouged at stone around him in anger a causing deep sound to echo throughout the underground. He froze and cursed himself. His anger had gotten the better of him. He sat listening for the telltale signs of Nightmares coming for him but was met with blissful silence. He let out a breath and berated himself. He could not allow for his anger to control him now the risk was too great. Let the anger come later when he was free to wreak havoc.   
To distract himself Pitch began to think again of what could pull him from his state. He paced silently along his dark prison brow furrowed in thought. There was no longer any common spirit on Earth who would help him, they would be mad to do it. Pitch would force them but he couldn’t risk the exposure while he was still so weak. He needed to go somewhere that the Guardians wouldn’t think of. He needed a neutral if not an evil party. Pitch scowled as he thought of Mother Nature his eyes betraying his thoughts. Neutral she may be but his daughter would never help him. She had vowed not to and as it was, he wasn’t truly her father anymore, was he? He quickly turned his thoughts from the powerful woman and racked his memory of Earth’s spirits. Who had the power and who would help him through want or desperation?

Pitch froze as he came to a realization. Yes, of course. A wicked grin spread across his face a blade in the shadows. There was one, the spirit who had tried to help him before oh yes. There was one. She would no doubt be thrilled that Pitch finally came back to her after so long a time, yes in fact she might even be grateful. Pitch withheld the laugh growing within his throat a mad and gleeful thing. Trapped as the spirit was, she was powerful and oh so desperate she would be so easy to manipulate, oh so easy to control. Being controlled her entire existence she would fall into the role easily as a spider spun thread. Her realm was also such a benefit full of darkness as it was. Going to her he would not have to worry about the sun and he could see her right away. With the thought of power at his fingertips and a deep hunger in his veins Pitch gathered the shadows around him, close as lover he held them and wrapped them around his being and with but a thought he melted away. 

He had a weaver to see.


	2. Chapter One - A Meeting of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch goes to meet with an old spirit that he once saw long ago Fate. He believes that after so long alone that she will be soft and plaint and easy to manipulate to his plans. Oh Pitch how wrong he was.

There was a profound silence surrounding the mountain that night. The stars shone with the brilliance of diamonds in the sky with no light pollution around to block them out. The Milky Way stood out against the velvet sky, a shimmering cloud of creation. Manaslu’s snowy peaks stood out solitary against the backdrop of the heavens. Pitch materialized out of the opaque shadows clinging to the highest peaks of the mountain. As he stepped out against the snow he breathed out heavily. Manaslu was a long way from his lair back in the United States and with so little power left in him traveling such a distance winded him. Pitch stood straight then, not one to outwardly show his weakness even when alone. He breathed in the brisk air and looked about him, searching for the small hidden entry to the mountain. The entryway was a small archway cut out of the rock, jagged and broken about four feet high and three feet wide and cloaked from human sight. Pitch’s molten metal eyes had no trouble finding the opening in short time and he strode toward it with purpose.  
Ducking low he stepped into the darkness that awaited him and found himself in an immense cavern. The huge cavern had an opening at the top offering a perfect view of the stars and Milky Way above illuminating only a small spot on the cavern floor. The air in the cavern seemed heavy, it pressed down upon Pitch’s shoulders as he moved forward in the blackness. No matter where he moved there also seemed to be an insistent whispering right as his ear but he could never make out the words, the whispers were too low and seemed to be in many different languages, being cut off and hissed around the room. Pitch felt a shiver go up his spine. While he was not afraid he never enjoyed coming here into the den of providence.

As Pitch moved across the great expanse he began to see shimmering out the corner of his eye. Every step was accompanied by a thin flash of color or shimmer. The closer Pitch got the center of the room the more clearly he saw these flashes, they were threads. Millions of threads spun and stretched across the room in every color imaginable, glinting ominously in the moonlight almost begging for a hand to reach out and touch them. Pitch clenched his hands close to his sides. He knew better. His eyes darted about the room taking in the massive amount of threads and he pursed his lips tight into a line. ‘Time has taken its toll, the amount of threads here nearly quintuple the amount I saw the last.’ At this Pitch gave a grim smile. If luck went his way this meant that his quarry would be all the more desperate. If not. He shook his head dispelling such thoughts. He would make sure to succeed here. 

Suddenly Pitch halted. In front of him there was a belt of threads so thick and close together one almost could not see through them. They were woven so tightly together they looked almost as if they were one singular thread. At its epicenter sat the very spirit Pitch had been seeking. The spirit lifted her head minutely her curly hair falling in complex braids around her face. Dull olive green eyes regarded Pitch with a bored indifference but Pitch could see the flash of rage in them. Looking down Pitch saw that even with all these past years one thing remained the same, the spirit’s dark legs were trapped and twisted within the very threads that she sat in, pressed to the brown skin so tightly that where the thread cut in the skin looked almost white. In some places the thread ran red and old scars could be seen all over. Pitch looked up at the spirit’s face again and saw that the indifferent mask had transformed into a furious grimace.  
“Well, well, look who it is. If it isn’t Pitch Black the Nightmare King come to visit little old Fate. To what do I owe this pleasurable visit Pitch?” Her smooth voice drawled. The spirit, Fate, leaned forward and gave a nasty smile. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. It has something to do with, that pitiful fight you had with the Guardians.” Fate gave a mirthless laugh as rage played across Pitch’s face. She knew exactly why he had come to her. “Oh Pitch, you were so close to winning! Yet, you lost it all because of one teeny tiny frost spirit.” Fate gave a rueful smile and inclined her head. “Or should I say powerful.” Pitch hissed at the reminder of his defeat at the hands of the boy. He opened his mouth to speak but Fate beat him to it rushing in with her own words a look of glee on her face at tormenting him. “And now, bleeding, broken and weak, you come crawling back to me for help?” Fate pauses then her face contorting into an ugly mask of contempt.  
Pitch snarled but held his tongue. He would not grovel but he was here to gain help. Not alienate himself from one of his only options. Gritting his teeth he spoke to her in a charming tone. “I believe that you and I could help each other Fate. You and I are both cut from the same cloth, think of what we could accomplish together! The power the two of us could wield! If you helped me-“ Fate cut him off with a bark of laughter. She threw her head back and took a deep breath, then turned to give Pitch a pitying look and spoke in a low voice that Pitch had to strain to hear.  
“You want me to help you? Oh Pitch. I’d never help you. Why would I after what you did to me?” Fate tilted her head and Pitch caught air in his throat. This was rapidly going in the wrong direction. Pitch made to move but Fate thrust out a hand and threads came to wrap themselves tightly around Pitch’s legs and arms holding him in place and digging into his skin. Fate bared her teeth and her voice turned hard and biting. “Why would I, when all those years ago when you were finally set free from your retched prison as you sought a way to hurt Tsar Lunar, and I asked for your help you refused me.” Fate’s hands shook and she breathed heavily through her nose, brows furrowed in anger and a nasty turn to her lips. “When I was trapped and ensnared by the very threads of fate I had woven! Trapped in my own jail! All I had asked was for you to free me! If you had freed me then, maybe I’d still be able to walk Pitch!” Fate clenched her hands and the threads drew tighter around Pitch. He grunted and struggled snarling at his captor but quickly stilled when the threads began to burn hot. He did not want to suffer the same pain as their weaver. Fate shook her head anger and sadness battling in her eyes. “Now these useless limbs are nothing more than decoration. Mutilated, bloody decoration that mean nothing. I lost so much! And I was stuck here. Stuck here for as long as I can remember. Forced to listen to the damn stars! Forced to write the fates of every living thing! I could never weave things for my own gain I was always forced to listen I was a patient little scribe! Just weaving.” With this Fate angrily looked up through the opening in the mountain and hissed and spat as if cursing the stars themselves. Pitch stayed still not willing to draw her ire towards him again. Fate hung her head then and her voice wavered with unshed tears. “I hated it. And you didn’t help me.” With a shaky breath Fate looked up into Pitch’s face and gave a sickly grin.

“If I recall your words were ‘You’re an insolent, small, insignificant, helpless little bug. And I don’t need Fate.’ And now! All these years later you come crawling to me wanting me to give you your power back and to help you gain the one thing you want most. Other than to be feared.” Pitch’s breath hitched and he felt fire light his veins. Anger pulled his lips back as he bared his teeth at the spirit “How dare you-“ but she only laughed pulling the threads tighter around him and snarling back at him. “Don’t think I don’t want to know what it is Pitch. You’re so obvious its right on your face! You insolent old man. One half of you desires, a more intimate relationship while the other half wants a familial bond. The King inside you wants little Jack Frost as your Prince, as your second in command and all that that entails. And the pitiful remains of the man you used to be hidden underneath all the fear, Kozmotis, wishes for a son a family again.” Pitch jerked back from the name as if slapped and Fate just kept snarling at him disgusted at this wretched excuse of a man continuing to snarl at him her head jerking forward like a dog on a chain as her voice raised to a scream. “Oh does it hurt Pitch? Does it hurt like I did! I hope it does.”  
Breathing hard Fate fell back and simply gazed at Pitch. She twitched her fingers and brought him closer and forcing him to kneel on the ground. She looked up and began to pick at her fingers seemingly disinterested while Pitch snarled at her from the ground. She shrugged and turned to address him. “Do you remember all those years ago Pitch I made a little bluff to you. You called me out on it I said to you ‘Don’t leave me here, don’t leave me I could weave your fate! I will make your life misery!’ That was a lie. The stars still had control over me then. You called my bluff spectacularly well I might add, but you see Pitch. After all this time all this long, long suffering time alone with nothing but my thread. Well.” Fate tossed her hair and chuckled. “I’ve had time to grow.” Fate pinned Pitch to the ground with her gaze and the man slowly struggled less and less as the implications of her words started to dawn on him. Her teeth seemed to gleam in the light of the night as she smiled down at the man like he was a pest caught in her trap.  
He glared at her and snapped “Impossible! You are bound to listen, you are an embodiment the same as any spirit here!” Fate just continued to smile coldly at the man. “I don’t listen to the stars anymore Pitch. I don’t listen to the heavens any longer King of Fear. Fate is mine now. Mine to twist and weave and command.” She tilted her head and tapped her chin in fake thought. “And I think my first order of business with it is to crush you. I will weave a fate for you so cruel and horrible even you will fear me.” She growled down at him moving down to his level of sight and speaking in a hushed voice. “I will gladly laugh and watch as you writhe and scream and cry and revel in it. You have slighted me once Pitch you shall not do so again.” 

Pitch gave her a cold smile even as his insides turned to ice. If this was true then he was nothing more than a waiting fresh kill in front of her. “My dear lady I called your bluff once, I believe I can do so again. And even if what you say is true, I am the King of Fear you will never be able to touch me. You’re nothing but a little Fateweaver and nothing more.” Fate’s face contorted in rage and she went to tighten her threads but Pitch only closed his eyes and called his Nightmare to him. As it appeared at his side it screamed and kicked and Fate yelled out and fell back in surprise losing her grip on the threads. Pitch sucked the life from his Nightmare taking its power for his own and with the small boost he slipped back into inky darkness and away from Fate’s threads. He stopped at the edge of her cavern and looked back to see her green eyes filled with a burning anger unlike he’d ever seen. For a minuscule moment he felt afraid but he covered it up with a grin. “Goodbye Fate. May we never meet again. I do hope you enjoy being alone.”  
With those words Fate screamed and lunged forward but fell to the ground her legs ensnared in thread. Tears of rage escaped her eyes as she crawled forward with her fingers biting into the ground until bloody as she screamed “Just you wait Pitch. Now it’s my turn and you along with the entire world will feel my wrath!” Pitch opened his mouth to taunt her again but was stunned silent as Fate raised her hands and pulled her thread around her and in one swift hand motion across her body and a grunt of effort she cut the threads away. Pitch’s eyes widened and before Fate could make due on her promise he shadow traveled away.

Pitch came back to his lair short of gaining back his power and breathing heavily. He never thought twice of the spirit of Fate he had spurned so long ago. He was at the height of his power he had no need of Fate and its trappings. But back then he had failed, and then he had failed again recently. With a shaky sigh Pitch set himself and walked deeper into his dark underground stronghold and clenched his fists.' Whatever happens now I must be careful. There is a new player on the field and if I do not treat her power with respect I may just lose everything'. Pitch gave a snort wondering how much more he could lose, how much farther he could fall. Thinking back on the rage filled eyes of Fate however he discovered he really did not want to know. He spoke softly to himself in the shadows, “The game just got infinitely harder to play.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER to make up for that horribly short prologue lol. I apologize if this feels at all choppy or stilted I was in so much excitement over this story I wrote this chapter in the very same day. On top of that dialogue has never been as strong suit. Regardless I hope you all enjoyed it and i really hope you all enjoyed your first glimpse of Fate! Isn't she a doll? lol
> 
> Im really excited for the rest of this. The next chapter might take awhile so my apologies in advance. Once again please comment for any ideas, criticisms or plain feelings you had about the work. Im always looking to improve

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the short first chapter! But this is only the prologue, the setup to a much much bigger work to come. I hope you enjoyed it and are all sufficiently interested because this is only just the beginning and we haven't even scratched the surface


End file.
